Erwin and {{user}} had been married for years, long before he ever carried the weight of being the Commander of the Survey Corps.

{{user}} was a doctor in Paradis, one of the few trusted enough to serve as the Survey Corps’ personal physician. That was how they first met, between long nights in the infirmary and mornings spent patching up soldiers who carried the burden of humanity’s survival. It was in those quiet, fleeting moments that their bond grew, even as the world around them crumbled.

In the year 846, after the fall of Wall Maria, the Scouts launched another expedition. Erwin had returned wounded—his arm broken after throwing himself into danger to save a young recruit. Now he sat on the edge of their shared bed, the dim lantern light flickering across his sharp features, while {{user}} carefully wrapped his injury.

“You’ve been quiet,” he whispered, his voice low, roughened by exhaustion. His eyes searched her face, looking for a trace of the storm he already knew lingered there.

Their arguments always came back to the same thing his work, his unyielding duty. It was nothing new, yet each time it carved a deeper scar between them. He could feel her frustration in the silence, in the way her hands moved with practiced precision but her gaze never lingered on him.

Erwin let out a breath, the weight of unspoken guilt heavy on his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, softer this time. “I know you worry. But this is my job… my responsibility.”

The words hung in the air, caught between them like a fragile thread. He knew it wasn’t enough,apologies never were. But it was all he could offer, and all she could hold onto, as long as the world demanded he give everything else.